Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas: Year Two
by Aggie2011
Summary: In the wake of the disastrous Cairo mission, Christmas is the last thing Clint wants to deal with. Phil understands, but that's not going to keep him from spending the day with him...even if it means doing as much NON-celebration as he can. *Vantage Point Universe*No-Slash*Pre-Avengers*


_Disclaimer: I do not own "The Avengers" or any of the characters affiliated with them. If I did, there would totally be a Hawkeye/Black Widow movie or tv show in the works._

 _Author's Note: While I embrace_ ** _constructive_** _criticism, remember this old saying if you choose to leave a review "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"_

* * *

 _Hi there! Surprise! An actual VPU-canon one shot! The next of the Christmas series! Now, as we all may remember from "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas: Year One", Clint has a rocky relationship with the holiday. To refresh you, when he was six years old, it was on Christmas, when Santa didn't bring his parents back like he asked, that Clint realized they were truly gone. Now, here we are, at his second Christmas with SHIELD and with Phil! Will Phil turn him around on the holiday? Time will tell!_

 _Now a quick announcement! I have recently begun to dabble in a new fandom. I am by no means leaving the VPU, you will continue to get fics about our precious devil that is Clint Barton. But I have begun to craft a universe within the fandom of BBC's "The Musketeers" centered around the character of Aramis. The first fic of this new universe - to be called "Of the First and Finest" universe - is with one of my betas now and will hopefully becoming to a computer screen near you soon :) If you've never seen the show, and are not interested, I understand. But if you HAVE seen it, or ARE interested, I hope to see you there! :D_

 _Enough about all that, here's what you're here for!_

* * *

 _A very merry Christmas  
and a happy new year  
let's hope it's a good one  
without any fear  
_ _ **"So This Is Christmas" – John Lennon**_

* * *

 _Christmas Eve, 1990_

* * *

 _"Will Santa_ _ **really**_ _come tonight?"_ _Clint asked as he placed on a plate the cookies he and Barney had helped his mommy and daddy make earlier that day_ _. He arranged them carefully on the very special cookie plate that was shaped like Santa's head._

" _He will, little monkey," his daddy promised as he poured fresh milk into the little glass sitting next to the plate. "And he'll bring you lots of presents, too."_

 _Clint looked up from his meticulous placement of the cookies to regard his daddy seriously._

" _Does Santa_ _ **really**_ _need_ _ **all**_ _these cookies?"_

 _His daddy laughed and crouched down next to him. He peered over his shoulder and then leaned in to whisper in Clint's ear._

" _I think he could spare_ _ **one**_ _." He reached and removed one cookie from the plate and held it out to Clint. "But don't tell mommy."_

 _Clint grinned and quickly snatched a cookie, devouring half of it in one bite. Just then his mommy and Barney walked in with the special Christmas book they read every year – The Night Before Christmas. Clint hid the remainder of his stolen cookie behind his back and stopped chewing, giving his mommy and brother a closed mouth, innocent smile._

 _His mommy looked at him, seemed to fight down a grin, and then arched her eyebrow at his daddy._

" _It was_ _ **one**_ _," his daddy defended and then shot a wink at Clint. "It's Christmas Eve, it's not like he's gonna sleep anyway."_

 _His mommy rolled her eyes with a warm smile, and handed the book over to his daddy._ _Clint snuck over to Barney and held out the rest of his cookie._

" _Here," he whispered, "but don't tell mommy."_

 _Barney grinned at him and stuffed the cookie in his mouth._

 _Their mommy sighed and sat down on the couch, holding her hands out to Clint to invite him onto her lap. He didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled up onto her lap and snuggled against her chest as she wrapped her arms around him. Barney sat next to her while their daddy sat at the other end of the couch._

 _Daddy cleared his throat and opened the book._

" _Twas the night bef-"_

" _Wait!" Clint shrieked, sitting up suddenly and making the other three jump._

" _What?" Barney asked with wide eyes._

" _Santa's reindeer! We didn't leave any snacks for them! They're gonna be hungry after flying all the way here from the North Pole!" He turned his wide blue-gray eyes up to his mommy. "Mommy, we have to leave a snack_ _for Rudolph_ _. We just_ _ **have**_ _to!"_

 _His mommy exchanged a look with his daddy and then met his gaze again._

" _I think I have just the thing."_

 _She nudged him off her lap and led him to the kitchen. He watched as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carrot._

" _How about this?"_

 _Clint smiled._

" _Perfect!"_

 _She handed it to him and he ran back into the living room, carefully placing the carrot on the edge of the plate._

" _Do you think Santa will know this isn't for him?" Clint asked seriously as he climbed back onto his mommy's lap._

" _I think the big man in red will figure it out. He's pretty smart," his daddy said. "Now, can I continue? If you two aren't asleep when the big guy shows up, he'll just skip the house all together."_

 _Clint nodded quickly._

 _His daddy opened the book again, and started to read._

" _Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…"_

* * *

 _Christmas Eve, 2004_

* * *

Clint blinked to dispel the memory, coming back to the present with a sigh. That had been their last Christmas together, but they hadn't known that then. He'd only been five, Barney only eleven. He shouldn't remember it with the clarity that he did – it had been fourteen years since that night – but for some reason it was as clear to him as if it had happened the night before. He had very few memories of his parents that consisted of anything more than feelings and impressions. This was one of the good ones. There were others, like the night of the accident, that he wished he could forget.

He blinked again when some snow landed on his lashes. Then his attention was diverted further when the door to the gym below him suddenly burst open, spilling light out onto the training field and filling the air with the sounds of the Christmas party taking place in the gym.

Nobody emerged though, so he figured it had just gotten too warm inside.

 _So this is Christmas…and what have you done…another year over…and a new one just begun…_

Clint sighed, shifting his weight where he sat on the roof, as the music from the party started filtering through the previously still night. He started weighing the pros and cons of going inside.

Pros: he didn't have to listen to the music or the sounds of the party, and he would no longer be freezing his ass off.

 _And so this is Christmas…I hope you have fun…the near and the dear ones…the old and the young…_

Both were definitely solid reasons to go inside.

Cons: his chances of getting back to his room without running into someone that would then try to drag him to the party were slim.

That was a pretty big detractor. This time of year had made the population at SHIELD friendlier…and the normally understood boundaries between him and everyone else had been ignored with increasing frequency. If he had one more person try to put a Santa hat on his head or tie bells to his boots, he was gonna start throwing punches.

Maybe it was best just to stay up here, out of sight.

 _A very merry Christmas…and a happy New Year…let's hope it's a good one…without any fear…_

God, he hated this time of year.

He had for a long time now. But this year…this year was worse. Usually he could coast through the holiday season with his head down and a healthy dose of apathy. He could ignore it and avoid it. But this year he couldn't seem to shake it.

And he knew exactly why.

He just didn't have it in him to soldier through this year. He didn't have it in him to do much of anything.

Because of him…

Because of Boomer.

 _And so this is Christmas…for weak and for strong…for rich and for poor ones…the world is so wrong…_

It hadn't even been three weeks since that day. He still relived it, saw it happen, almost every time he closed his eyes. Finding Boomer, watching him die…knowing he'd failed his friend when he needed him most.

Clint closed his eyes and clenched his hands. His right arm, still casted and strapped to his chest to keep his broken collar bone immobilized, ached vaguely but he ignored it. His other hand fisted in the snow, the cold wetness biting into his skin and keeping him grounded.

 _And so happy Christmas…for black and for white…for yellow and red ones…let's stop all the fight…_

It had taken him weeks to emerge from the black hole of depression Boomer's death had sent him spiraling into. And just when he started making his way back into the light, Christmas rolled around.

He hadn't been able to, or _wanted_ to, face this holiday since he was six years old.

And now, after Boomer…

 _A very merry Christmas…and a happy new year…let's hope it's a good one…without any fear…_

Clint just didn't have anything left to get him through it.

* * *

 _And so this is Christmas…and what have we done…another year over…and a new one just begun…_

Phil made his way into the SHIELD Christmas party and looked around for Dan and Todd. He caught sight of a waving arm and headed that direction. Dan held out a beer to him as he approached and Todd gave him a nod of greeting. A moment later, though, the trainer frowned.

"Where's the kid?" Todd asked.

Phil hesitated. Last he'd seen Clint was at breakfast. The archer was still on medical leave after Cairo, and spent most of his days keeping his own company. He'd only _just_ started talking to Phil again and he hadn't dared press the kid about coming to the Christmas party.

"He wasn't feeling up to coming," Phil replied, taking a sip of his beer.

Dan frowned.

"He's not feeling well?"

Phil shook his head quickly.

"No, nothing like that," he assured. "Christmas just…isn't his thing."

That might have been understating it a bit, but Phil wasn't planning on getting into the entire tragic story.

"Not his thing?" Todd scoffed. "Who doesn't like Christmas?"

"Where is he?" Dan asked, sharing a conspiring glance with Todd. "We'll drag him here ourselves."

Phil held up a hand, expression sobering.

"Leave him alone," he issued the order firmly. "He's not up for it. It's been a long few weeks for him and we're going to let him have this one, understand?"

Both Todd and Dan looked contrite at the reminder.

"Besides," Phil smiled, "we're going to do our own thing for Christmas. Kind of a _non_ celebration. That way he gets what he wants and I still get to spend the holiday with him. Everybody wins."

"Everybody but Santa," Todd muttered.

Phil rolled his eyes.

"The kid really doesn't do Christmas?" Dan asked doubtfully. "Phil, you're like the biggest Christmas junkie I know. How are you even gonna cope a second year in a row without your round the clock festive tunes, Christmas movie marathon, and endless stream of baked goods?"

Phil chuckled.

"I'll survive." When both raised an eyebrow, he added, "it's just a day."

They both gave him matching doubtful looks.

"This is what he needs right now. He's finally, _finally,_ starting to come back from what happened in Cairo. So if ignoring the holiday is what he needs to keep from backsliding, it's what I'm going to do."

Todd sighed and Dan nodded.

"Besides," Phil gave them a wide smile. "I have the party, that's enough for me. It's got music _and_ baked goods."

Dan shrugged a shoulder.

"I guess two out of three isn't bad."

Phil nodded, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Not bad at all."

"Hey! Bryan!" a voice rose from across the gym. Todd turned to find the source. Another trainer was holding up a football. "Get your old ass outside! I'm calling a rematch from last year!"

Todd scoffed.

"Boy, it doesn't matter how many years you call rematch, I'm gonna wipe the field with you every damned time!"

He turned back to Dan and Phil.

"Ass-whooping time. You two in?"

Immediately, they both protested, but Todd ignored them.

"Great! Let's go."

He then latched onto both their arms and pulled them towards the open gym door and the training field that lay beyond it.

Phil continued to protest half-heartedly, just like he did _every_ year, but didn't resist as Todd pulled him out of the gym into the cold evening.

Almost immediately, his instincts flared. Even as he raised his gaze towards the roof, he already knew what he'd see.

Clint was there, legs dangling over the ledge. But pretty much as soon as Clint realized Phil had seen him, he withdrew. He slid back, disappearing from sight.

Phil felt self-doubt swell in his gut. Maybe it hadn't been the right call, giving Clint so much space. Maybe now, of _all_ times, was the time for him to push Christmas. To try to bring some joy and cheer into Clint's life. Maybe he should go up there and at least keep him company.

"Phil," Todd appeared at his elbow. "If he wanted to be here, he could be here. You said he needed space, so give it to him. Don't go hover, don't go force your presence on him. You said yourself that he's had a rough few weeks, best not to force it. Now come on, we've got a game to win."

Phil nodded reluctantly and let Todd pull him towards the huddle.

* * *

 _Christmas Day_

* * *

Clint looked up from his book – held open on the bed by his crossed ankles – and his bowl of cereal – balanced in his lap so he could use his one free hand to eat it – when a knock came at the door. He only vaguely heard it over the classic rock music he had playing on his laptop. He momentarily entertained the idea of ignoring the knock all together. He really wasn't up for company, even if that company had the best intentions.

Another knock.

He _had_ promised Phil he would spend the day with him. And with the man making so many concessions concerning this particular day, it would be a jerk move to freeze him out now.

So Clint sighed and climbed off his bed. He abandoned his cereal bowl on the bedside table and went to the door.

Phil was smiling at him on the other side when he pulled it open.

"Ready?" Phil asked, practically glowing with excitement.

Clint sighed.

"Let me find my shoes," he muttered, turning back to search the room for his Nikes. Phil caught the door before it could swing closed and leaned against it to keep it open. Clint felt his handler's eyes on him as he retrieved one shoe from under the bed and started searching for the second one.

"You been awake long?" Phil asked casually.

Clint glanced at him, then at the half-read book on the bed. A book that was the sequel to the book he'd been reading yesterday.

"A while," he hedged. He actually hadn't slept, but Phil didn't need to know that.

Phil nodded slowly, looking doubtful, but he didn't call 'bullshit'.

Clint found his other shoe and shoved his foot into it.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now, _this_ ," Phil produced a wrapped package from behind his back.

Clint glared coldly.

"Seriously, Phil?"

"Yes, seriously." Phil didn't back down. "You don't have to open it. You don't even have to keep it. But I wasn't _not_ going to get you something." Phil put the package on Clint's desk and gave him an unapologetic smile.

"I don't want that," Clint grumbled.

"I don't care," Phil replied easily. "This is the only Christmas I'm doing today – a present that you don't even have to open. Now come on, follow me." Then Phil turned and headed into the hall.

Clint sighed, glared one last time at the present on his desk, and then followed.

* * *

Phil stopped outside the door to briefing room 2. Clint arched a vaguely intrigued eyebrow and watched Phil glance at him, mouth open as if he were about to speak. But then Phil just gave him a smile and pushed into the room.

Clint sighed. Still walking on egg-shells it seemed. He supposed he understood. Clint _had_ been somewhat unpredictable and volatile lately. He drew in a deep breath, determined not to ruin this day for Phil. The man had already given up all hints of festivity, Clint could put on a smile and give him good company.

He followed Phil into the briefing room.

"Whoa…" he murmured when he got a full view of the dramatic change that had come over the room.

The conference table was pushed back against the back wall, loaded down with every kind of snack and junk food Clint could ever hope for. There was a bucket of ice with a pile of blue Gatorades dumped in it on the floor. In the middle of the room sat two large recliners, both facing the far wall where the room's large flat screen TV was mounted. The TV wasn't new, it was used for briefings and conference calls on a regular basis.

Clint did suppose, though, that this was the first time the home screen from _Terminator_ had been on it though.

"You did all this?" Clint asked as he perused the food. He wasn't really hungry and with only one good arm making a plate would be a trick anyway, so he bypassed all of it. He snagged a Gatorade, though, and then circled over to the recliners.

"Todd and Dan helped me set up. They wanted to do something for you and I might have taken advantage of that," Phil admitted with a sly grin.

Clint felt the corner of his mouth tug up into a grin.

He settled into one of the recliners with a deep sigh, letting the soft cushions swallow him.

Phil moved around behind him and then a plate of food appeared at his shoulder. Clint shook his head and chuckled, taking the plate gratefully.

"You're such a mother hen," he accused, but there was warmth in his tone that he didn't bother trying to hide.

"Somebody's got to be since you refuse to take care of yourself," Phil shot back easily. A few moments later he was settling in his own recliner with his own plate full of food. "Ready?" he asked, gesturing with the remote at the TV.

Clint nodded and balanced his food on his lap, pulling at the straps of his immobilizing sling.

"Uh, what do you think you're doing?" Phil scolded.

Clint rolled his eyes and didn't stop his attempt to free himself.

"I don't plan on moving much for the next several hours and I _hate_ this thing."

Phil narrowed his eyes and then waved him on, which was fine because Clint hadn't planned on _stopping_. A moment later the sling was on the floor and Clint was relaxing back, casted arm carefully propped on his abdomen.

"Ready now?" Phil asked mockingly.

Clint tossed him a glare and tossed a Dorito into his mouth.

It didn't take long after that. Weeks of poor sleep started to catch up with him and the chair was just so comfortable. The movie was a nice distraction for his overactive mind. And Phil was only a few feet away and that was just…oddly comforting.

Before he realized what was happening, he was fading…then he was gone.

* * *

Phil glanced over when he realized he hadn't seen Clint move in a while. He was more than a little surprised to see Clint's head tilted to the side, eyes closed, breathing even.

Clint hadn't been sleeping much, that was obvious even before the sudden nap. No matter how much of a front the archer put up, you couldn't hide the dark circles.

But he was sleeping now.

Phil knew that meant something. Clint hadn't slept in his presence since Cairo. He hadn't let his guard down enough. He hadn't let _Phil_ close enough for the situation to even arise. He had refused to even speak to him, or anyone else for that matter, for _weeks_ after Cairo. But when that had passed, when he'd started talking again, he still hadn't let his guard down. He still hadn't let Phil back in. Things still weren't back to how they'd been before Cairo.

But Phil had been patient. He'd waited and hoped, that even if things were never the same, that at least they could move forward. He'd waited for Clint to let him in again.

And finally, _finally_ , it was happening.

Phil didn't bother trying to hide his smile as he turned back to the movie. And when Clint flinched violently awake only an hour later, immediately clenching his jaw against a likely flair of pain in his collar bone, Phil didn't even look over. He didn't draw attention to what felt like a monumental milestone. A milestone they were retreading, but a milestone none the less.

He waited until Clint looked over at _him_ before he let himself turn his head.

For a moment it looked like Clint was going to say something, but then he just quirked his lips into a kind of weary smile and looked back at the TV.

Phil bit hard at the inside of his lip to keep his disappointment from showing and looked back at the TV as well.

He wasn't there yet, but that was okay.

Phil would wait.

* * *

 _End of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas: Year Two_

 _I hope you all enjoyed that one! :D We'll be back this time next week with another Snapshot! I've been valiantly trying to keep the VPU alive during the multi-chap fic hiatus by posting weekly, even if it IS just little 1000 word blurbs. It's something though, right? :D And then we've got these VPU-canon one-shots too! I know it doesn't take the place of a big fic, but we can't have everything lol :D_

 _You guys are the best! Have a wonderful Wednesday and if you've got a few seconds, drop me a line! ;)_


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